Untitled
by wrath of kara thrace
Summary: The country is taken over by radicals who preach a New World Order and the "Truth". A girl whose parents are killed sets out to destroy the military arm of the NWO known as Phoenix after finding out that her parents had ties there.
1. Preface

Renascence

They came in the night, while most people were sleeping. I looked up at my clock to read the analog that usually depicted the time in bright red LEDs and burnt into my retinas. Strangely, no time was displayed on my clock. I figured the power must have gone out. I looked at my watch to see that it was 1:30 in the morning. I remembered that I had been woken up by a shout. I planned on finding out whose.

It had been a man's shout, almost a bellow: a challenge. At first I thought it had just been part of some dream, but then I heard it again. It was not coming from inside the house, but outside. In the dark, I fumbled to pull on a pair of easy-fitting jeans and my sneakers from under my bed. I put on a clean shirt from my closet, figuring I may as well get dressed for school since I wouldn't be able to go back to sleep now.

I opened the door to my room slowly, checking the hallway to see if my parents were up and about. They never trusted me to not sneak out, even though I never had. When I knew the coast was clear of parental interference, I headed down the hallway to the head of the stairs. I peered down the unlit stairwell, trying to make out any shadows. I didn't see anything, so I continued down the steps into the living room, and out into the front hall.

There was a bright, fiery light coming from outside in the driveway, and I knew then that something was wrong. As I hurriedly opened the front door and ran outside, I found out why I hadn't met my parents on my way out–they were already out here. My dad's truck was ablaze, and it was a fireball of angry orange light. My parents were standing there in front of the truck, looking ready for a fight.

Before I could yell to my parents over the rage of the fire, three men dressed in all-black military fatigues came around from the other side of the truck. They wore matte black body armor, and held ghostly looking Spectre M4 submachine guns that they carried with an assurance that told me they knew how to use them. They looked like trained military troops, but they had no immediately distinguishing features. No rank insignias could be seen anywhere on their person, but I noted a small red patch on their upper left chests. I was too far away to make out what it was, but it looked like some kind of bird with wings outstretched.

I heard my father say something in another language. I was floored by the fact that my father seemed so comfortable speaking another language. I never knew my dad to speak anything but English. Even more surprising was the fact that my mom followed suit. It sounded like they were asking the three men something, but what they were asking I had no idea. The language sounded vaguely like Russian, but I really couldn't know for sure. My parents suddenly switched to English again.

"We won't let you do it," my dad said, "We don't care what type of new order she plans on creating, we won't be part of it."

One of the three men, obviously the higher ranking of the three, responded in heavily accented English, "Then I guess we have no choice. If you won't accept destiny, then who are we to argue with her will? I'm really sorry Jim, I actually liked you. But orders are orders, and she won't accept failure on our part or on yours. And you Lilith, I thought you of all people would understand."

This man looked not much older than myself. Maybe nineteen or twenty years old, and yet here he was, getting ready to shoot both my parents. My mother looked infinitely sad, as though there was something she had hoped to do that had just lost all hope of being accomplished. Despite that though, both she and my father looked ready to face their deaths.

My mom brought her head up, and with a violent fury in her eyes said, "We don't understand the destruction of entire continents just to put her into power. There is no need for such actions. There was a workable plan in place. There was no need for this violence!"

"There is always a need for violence. When others don't understand the Truth, you must make them understand," one of the other men said. My parents just shook their heads, giving up their attempt to dissuade these men of their obvious strong convictions. What they believed in, I had no idea, but I had a feeling I was going to find out soon enough.

As the men started to raise their weapons, I finally snapped back into reality. I wasn't thinking about the insanity of my parents somehow being connected to these men. I simply reacted to the fact that men were about to shoot my parents as I sreamed, "No!"

The men, surprised, looked up to where I was standing, both my parents turning to look as well. The men, confused at my sudden appearance, didn't fire for about five seconds. In those seconds, my parents realized that I was right in the line of fire. My mother ran to one of the men still surprised at my appearance, and gave him a roundhouse kick to the chin, knocking him on his butt. After he was subdued, she quickly swung his M4 around and began to open fire on the other two who quickly ducked behind my dad's truck for cover. My dad meanwhile, pulled a Smith & Wesson 9MM out of a concealed holster under his jacket. As he and my mother opened fire on the two men, I stood there openmouthed and dumbfounded.

My mother took a second to stop firing and said, "Quickly Lena, come here," and then continued to pummel what used to be my dad's truck with gunfire.

"Wha-?" I started, but I didn't have a chance to continue my question. My dad shook his head, "There's no time to explain, we just need you to trust us."

With no other choice, I shut my still-open mouth, swallowed my questions and said, "I trust you. What can I do?"

My mom stopped firing again, but this time she pulled an envelope out of her pocket to hand to me. As she reached into her pocket though, one of the men came around one side of the truck firing, and screaming like a madman. My dad turned and shot him once in the arm, and then in the throat. The man fell, gurgling a scream through his ruined throat.

The man had done his damage though, and my mom sank to her knees, two bloody spots on her white shirt near her abdomen. As she fell, she handed the envelope to me, and smiled.

She took a last breath as I was supporting her weight on my bent knee and said to me, "Everything is explained in there. We love you." As she said this, she sank to her side, expending her last breath.

I picked up the M4 she had acquired from the man now unconscious on the ground before me. I took the gun up to a firing position and fired across the spot I knew the leader of the three men to be. I felt fire coursing through my blood, and my eyes flashed as I pummeled the truck in hopes of hitting one of them. My dad suddenly stopped firing. I looked down at him and saw red blossoming from his chest. The anger left me in an instant as despair started to claw at my stomach.

I could only manage a weak, "Dad!" before he too fell to his side with no life left in his eyes. I tried to fire the M4 again, but there was no ammo left. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the leader of the men come out from behind the ruins of the truck. I scrambled to grab my father's 9mm, but before I could pick it up, the man came up and backhanded me to the ground. As I was lying there on my back, he looked over the dead bodies of my parents. Before he could notice, I quickly shoved the envelope into a pocket at the seat of my pants. It was all I had left of my parents, and he was not going to take it if I could stop him. Luckily, he didn't notice my movement before he turned to look at me.

He smiled as he saw the fear in my eyes. I had nowhere to run, and I felt numb to the core. He seemed to take joy in seeing my entire world destroyed from just three little metal slugs. I didn't know what to do, but I did know what I felt. I wanted this man dead. I had never been a violent person in my life, but now I wanted to kill this man. The fire again coursed through me as I put action to thought.

I jumped up and tried to get my hands around his throat. I roared in anger and despair, haunted and desperate for vengeance. I saw nothing but the man's icy blue eyes.

The man was about my height, but he was built like a body-builder. He easily swatted my arms away and as I started to come back for another attempt, he turned his gun around and used the butt of the Spectre to strike the side of my jaw and send me dizzy back to the ground. My jaw felt like it had been anesthetized, and I was so dizzy I couldn't stand up. While I was there on the ground, he took a few hard shots at my stomach, seemingly for insurance that I was really down. As I lay there struggling to get my breath back and my feet under me, he took a can of gasoline from our garage and went into the house.

I could imagine what he was doing, but for all I tried, I just couldn't get up. At that moment, all I felt was adrenaline and pain. I had gotten to my knees, but the effort it took nearly made me retch. After a minute of struggling against the nausea, I was finally able to stand to my full height without feeling sick. As I came up from my knees, the man came out of the house again. As he left the garage, he poured the rest of the gasoline out in a line following him to the driveway. He looked at me and smirked as he took out a match and dropped it on the gasoline. I looked on in despair, knowing I could do nothing to stop it. The last part of my life was about to be obliterated just like my parents had been.

As the fire spread through my garage and began to lick up the sides of the doorframe into the house, I turned to the strange man, and in a harsh, spluttering whisper asked, "Why? For what?"

He chuckled at my helplessness. "I'll be back soon," he said in his thick accent, "The New Order will overtake all, and no one will stop us. Your parents knew the risks, and failed to come through in the end. They got what they deserved for deserting the Truth. You too will understand the Truth soon enough. Everyone will."

With those cryptic parting words, he took off at a jog up our driveway. I knew that even if I wanted to, I was in no condition to chase after him. Soon after I heard the roar of an engine and saw red lights disappearing in the distance. I sat there in our driveway looking at the blaze of fire that was our house, and the bodies of my parents lying on the asphalt.

I searched their pockets for anything that might be able to help me. I took anything that might identify their bodies, along with my dad's 9mm and an M4 Spectre that had been left behind, along with extra magazines from the dead and unconscious men's pockets. I dragged all the bodies as close to the fire as I could bring them, knowing that they would be burned when the blaze continued to spread. I took one last look at my parent's faces, then picked up the few things I had taken and started to jog down the hill in our backyard. I was heading into the woods, away from the destruction, away from what would soon become the future of my existence.

* * * * * * * * * *


	2. Chapter 1

Chapter 1

I woke up to the rain splattering against my face. Cold rain, I realized, shivering. I had rolled out from under the overhanging rock that I had made my bed under as I slept, leaving me open to the freezing rain. Before lifting my head up, I took a minute to scan the immediate area and make sure I was alone. There was no way I wasn't going to take every precaution. I had no idea who those men were or what the New World Order was, but I didn't plan on being caught by surprise. When I was sure that I was alone, I got myself up, picked up what few things I had, and prepared to go back to the house. As I trekked back through the woods, I thought about my parents. I thought about what had happened to them, and how I had failed. I had failed to help them, had failed to be there when they needed me the most. As a tear started to roll down my cheek, I angrily wiped it away.

With a mental shake, I brought myself back to the present, where my full attention was needed. As I came up the hill towards the charred and smoking ruins of what used to be my house, I inwardly held my breath. It was still pouring rain, but I'd gotten used to that. It had been raining for the past week, and I figured that the fire had burned down and been extinguished for at least a few days. I used the trees as cover as I spied out my house, to be sure there wasn't anyone else there. I wasn't about to walk into a trap, and I wasn't sure if the soldiers were really gone yet. I did not want to run into them again, whether by accident or on purpose. At least, not until I was ready to face them.

After I was satisfied that there was no one there, I made my way to the back door, which faced out down the hill I had just come up and into the woods beyond that. Although the sliding glass door that used to be the back door into my house was bent in and wouldn't budge, it looked normal from a distance. For a moment, I was able to imagine the house as it had been. All the times I had come running up the hill and through the door, tracking mud in and driving my mom crazy. Again, as I remembered the happy memory of my mother, I started to shake with anger. How could I have failed them so miserably? How could I not have known who they really were? I stopped myself. The present, not the past, was going to determine my future and my survival. I had to stop thinking about them, and start thinking about myself, and what I was going to do. It was not the time to open the letter my mom had given me, and I wasn't ready myself to face what might just be explained inside of it.

After another mental shake, I tried to pry the door open, but didn't get very far. I was average height for my 18 years, about five foot six, with a fair amount of upper body strength from being constantly active in sports. I didn't think I would have much trouble opening it, but it wouldn't move an inch. So I started looking for another window or door I could go through. I didn't want to go around the side of the house because it was too easily seen from the road, and because there were things better left untouched there. I tried one of the windows next to the back door, and it popped open easily after I took the screen off. I climbed through and scrambled into the shambles that used to be our living room. Even though I had seen the house being lit on fire, and I knew what waited for me inside, it looked terrible.

Nothing could have prepared me for the destruction of our home that lay strewn about the ground. All of my childhood memories were in that house, from the time I was five: pictures, books, and pieces of furniture I had always hated but now missed dearly. It was a mess that reflected the disorganized and scattered thoughts going through my head. I was lost in this spinning web of confusion that didn't look like it was going to make sense any time soon. I just stood there staring at what was left of a wall, utterly lost and alone for the first time in my life. Somehow I dredged up the will power and courage to stay strong. I told myself I wouldn't surrender to despair. I was not going to make it easier on these men who had taken my life away in one fell swoop. If they came back, I was going to be ready for them.

After making my decision, I spent some time just looking around the house, going through the kitchen, the bedrooms, even the bathroom. It would probably be the last time I saw the place, so I spent my time remembering it well. The wood floors, the feel of the carpet, all brought the painful night to life before my eyes. The night when everything had fallen apart. Berating myself again, I got to work looking for what I needed.

I needed to be able to defend myself, and to do so with deadly efficiency. I scoured the remains of the house until I found some good-sized kitchen knives that could be easily concealed. I broke into the old safe that my father kept his two 9mm handguns in (one of which I already had) and got some ammunition from another locked cabinet. The locks, as burned as they were, opened with a single blow from a charred hammer I found in the basement. I had taken from my father the 9mm shoulder holster that he had worn the night of the attack, and I now put it onto my shoulders rather than carrying it in my hands. It fit well, and it felt right to be accepting this inheritance, this part of his life that I did not yet understand. I also took an old work-belt of my father's and another 9mm hip holster of his and hung it on my waist. The holster hung off my right hip, easily accessible to my hand in a fight. I thought I would be scared to be carrying these weapons of violence and death, but I felt comfortable. I felt safe.

I managed to find the old bayonet that my grandfather had bought at a flee-market years and years ago. It was about a foot and a half long with a metal scabbard to go with it. It was more like a short sword to my eye; it had a rather large handle that accommodated two hands, and had a long enough reach that it would have been a bit unwieldy as a bayonet anyway. It was a perfect fit to my grip and I planned on using it well.

I measured one of my father's old work-belts and fit it from my right shoulder down to my left hip. Using some sewing needles and thread I found of my mother's, I fastened the scabbard to the belt at each end. When I was finished, I had the perfect place to keep the blade, going down over my back, and easily reachable to my right hand if I reached over my shoulder. I felt like a character out of one of my adventure books. It felt so fictional to be taking up this unknown mantle of my parents' and to be preparing for a war of my own with unknown forces that sought to really kill me. That's when I realized that this was no novel. These men really wanted to kill me, and I had to realize that if it came to a fight, they would not hesitate to do so. I was preparing myself for the inevitability of having to fight for my life.

The kitchen knives were the next things I had to take care of. They each had five-inch blades, making them about nine inches long with the handles. There were five of them, so I needed to find a good way to carry them without stabbing myself bloody. I used some hard leather material I found in my father's old workbench to make some small sheaths for them. I then fastened three of them to either side of the belt around my hip, and the other two lengthwise to the bandolier I had fashioned around my shoulder to sheath my sabre-sized bayonet. After about an hour of work, I had a working arsenal of weapons. However, the knives and sabre were old and dull, and needed badly to be sharpened.

I rummaged around for about twenty minutes before I found what I was looking for. My father's old grinding stone was buried beneath a broken down desk that had caught some of the fire. I had finally caught some luck. The only problem was that it was an electric grindstone and needed to be plugged in. And along with the attack from the soldiers, all the power had been cut. So I had what I needed, but with no power to use it, it was worth absolutely nothing to me.

I mulled it over for a while, trying to think of what to do. I finally had the spark of an idea. I took the backing off of the grindstone, and attached an old drill (one of those old ones with the hand cranks) to the center bolt on the wheel. I started cranking away and so did the grindstone. Sharpening my newfound weapons, I thanked my father for his appreciation of old tools, and having the old hand-drill in his workshop, and thankfully untouched by the fire. When I was done, I put all the blades in their proper sheaths, the guns in their respective holsters, and fastened everything tightly to their belts. I wore my father's old jean jacket–one that I had always loved to wear–and I packed what few other things I had into a small green rucksack that had escaped the heat of the fire. I slung my bandolier over the jacket–my jacket now–and also slung the M4 Spectre over my shoulder to hang at the small of my back. I had extra magazines for all of the guns, hanging from my makeshift belt. I couldn't think of anything else I needed, and I knew that I was ready for whatever was to come.

The thought occurred to me as I came back out of the basement that I had no idea what I was planning to do. I had never really used a weapon before, never had to fight for my life, unless you counted the night that my parents had died. The closest I had come was shooting my father's .22 in the backyard at a few Coke cans, and throwing some knives at trees just for fun. I had never even shot a paintball gun, which by my birth in 2015, was outmoded anyway. If only my parents had been wearing sufficient armor that night I wouldn't be alone in this fight. Here I was again, thinking of the past, though, and I shook myself out of my reverie and started up the steps back into the kitchen.

Normal bullet-shooting guns were relatively antiquated, because armor to shield against them was so far advanced. They were almost useless to any type of current-day soldier. I realized that that was why my father had shot the man in the arm and throat. A shot to the chest would have been useless. Knives and swords were coming back as legitimate weapons because of the bullet protecting armor that was mass-produced for fights against the most recent and modern weaponry. I knew that if I had any chance of getting an advantage in a fight, I would have to resort back to what was thought to be outdated methods. I had a hunch that the modern armor that soldiers so adored would not take to kindly to my sabre or a knife.

It had never occurred to me that I would ever have to use any type of weapon to hurt another human being. It was a scary thought, because I realized then and there that I had no inhibitions at all about doing just that. It was as if all my compassion had been taken away in the space of a few days, and I had no empathy left to give anyone. The night that I had fought alongside my parents had taken any of those doubts away from me. I knew that I could do this, if for nothing else, than for the memories of my parents. I was ready to avenge their deaths, to put right this wrong, and to gain some semblance of reality again. Even though deep inside me I knew it was a fleeting hope, I put all my strength and energy into that hope. I knew that I would never give up until I was utterly spent, laying bleeding and dying in the dust.

As I was coming out of my jumbled thoughts, I heard a creak through the door at the top of the steps. I was about halfway up the stairwell, and I froze completely, probably looking rather intimidating with my weapons so garishly hung on me as they were. Someone was there. Whether it was the man from that night or just someone looting the house, all I could think of was of someone desecrating my home. Before I had second thoughts, I charged up the last few steps yelling like a madwoman. I smashed open the door and barreled right into the intruder and slammed him up against the wall. Growling with my teeth bared, I put my knife to his throat.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

"Aiden? Aiden Thrush? Is it really you?" I asked, shocked. I quickly let go of the boy who had been my friend since the fourth grade. He quickly backed away from me, eyes on the knife I had pulled away from his throat, staring at me with real fear in his eyes.

"Lena, I thought you and your family were all dead when I saw the flames from the street." He hesitated before continuing, "I was looking for supplies."

I frowned at this and asked him guardingly, "Why would you be _here_ for supplies? What's going on, Aiden?"

He looked at me in confusion. Then sorrow crossed over his eyes as he explained to me what had transpired in the last week. While I had been hiding in the woods from the men who had attacked, the rest of the country was being systematically blown to rubble.

From scattered word from neighbors and refugees that passed through the town, Aiden had learned that communications and media were nonexistent. From all that anyone could tell, there had been a massive attack on the country the same night that my parents were killed. We had been caught by surprise, not expecting an attack, and not ready for one. The relative peace that the world had enjoyed for the past five years had made us lackadaisical, not expecting an attack from anyone, least of all an attack of this scale and proportion.

The capital and most major cities had been bombed into submission after a major EMP strike had hit the country. All electronics went down, taking out our defense systems before there was even a chance to use them. Towns and smaller cities suffered from the lack of supplies coming from major metropolises. Following the bombings, black-clad paratroopers had shown up, invading individual residences at their whim. They destroyed homes and killed families, stole any available supplies that people had, and would only spare your life if you swore your loyalty to the "New Order". The only authority that existed anywhere was the muzzles of these scumbags, and people were only too willing to swear their undying slavery to these people who had destroyed their lives in the span of a few days. The red patch I had seen on the uniforms of the men turned out to be a Phoenix–the symbol for the military branch of this New Order.

As Aiden described what had transpired, we sat down on the floor in what had been my kitchen. After he finished telling me all that he knew about what had happened, it suddenly made sense why I hadn't seen anyone the past few days. Phoenix had been busy killing everyone, and apparently didn't have the time to find me. Not that they had to expend much energy to do so, since they knew that I didn't have much in the way of provisions and couldn't go very far.

I shook my head and looked around the wreckage of my house as I struggled with the idea that my life was going to get even harder than it now was. It was no longer just myself against these mysterious men. It was an entire country of refugees left to fend for themselves. Anarchy would rein, and strife would be rampant. Aiden and I wouldn't only have to protect ourselves from the New Order, but from everyday people who were simply desperate to survive. I knew that I couldn't just seek revenge for my parents anymore. I was going to make it my mission to destroy this New Order, and to help the people who weren't able to help themselves.

As I struggled to comprehend the consequences of such a decision, I realized that this was my chance to come into my own. I finally had a reason to live, a purpose for going through the motions of everyday life. I wasn't a student, a kid or a child anymore. I was going to make my own future, and hopefully help others to improve their own along the way.

As I began to puzzle all this out, I suddenly wondered what had happened to Aiden. His parents had divorced around the time the Wars were beginning to come to a close, a past just distant enough for neither of us to remember much of it. He had ended up with his grandparents, who happened to live a few miles from me. We had been fast friends since fourth grade, and were really close. I wondered then what had happened to his grandparents, and I asked, "Aiden, are your grandparents OK?"

He looked down to the floor, avoiding my eyes, as he sullenly shook his head, "They didn't make it. The New Order troops came the other night. I was out trying to figure out what was happening. When I came home, they were gone."

I hugged him in sympathy, trying to convey my empathy, which I discovered was not truly gone. Perhaps my emotions were more intact than I thought. If I still had the capacity to care for others, then maybe I could still manage to retain some aspect of the compassion that these men had so brutally stolen from me. I felt for Aiden, and I too mourned for his grandparents. Whether or not they were dead, they were good people, and didn't deserve to be left to the whims of this Phoenix group.

As I sat there unashamedly crying, spilling tears for those who had died, for those I knew were going to die, and for people who didn't have anyone to cry with. Aiden and I were all that either of us had left of our former lives, and we weren't about to let each other go. When my tears were spent, Aiden gently lifted my head from his shoulder and asked me what had happened with cautious curiosity.

"Where are your parents? What happened to your house? Where have you been hiding out? What are you doing with all these weapons? I thought you were all dead when I saw the smoke," he summarily ended his cacophony of questions.

I took a deep breath and told him, "New Order goons attacked about a week ago, and I barely got out of the house in time to escape the blaze they started. My parents weren't as lucky as I was though."

I left out the dialogue between my parents and the strange men. My parents' last moments still hurt too much to think about. Things were uncertain, and they would be for a long time. I wondered whether I should show him the letter they left me, but decided against it. I had no idea what was in the letter, and I needed to read it before anyone else did.

He looked at me in sympathy and after awhile of just sitting in reflective silence, he said, "So what now?" I looked at him and realized that he looked to me to decide what needed to be done. As I explained to him my plans of disrupting Phoenix and the New Order as much as I could. I told him I wanted to destroy them, and he immediately jumped on the runaway train cart I was flying along in.

I didn't know why, but I knew that Aiden was really with me now. He would stay by my side through the trials that faced us. I couldn't say whether I was appreciative or scared. As much as I appreciated it, it worried me. I had no intention of dragging Aiden into my suicidal fight against this New Order, no matter how good a friend he was. I knew there was going to be danger, and I didn't want to put him in the line of fire if I didn't have to. He was all I had left, and I didn't want him to be in any more danger than he had to be.

But I realized then that he wasn't a kid anymore. Neither of us could ever be kids again. Whether I was ready for it or not, I was an adult now, and he and I would take care of each other as if we were brother and sister. I swore it to myself then and there that I would protect him. We would both have to do a little growing up, but we were really on our own now.

"Aiden, are you sure you want to do this?" I asked slowly, "Are you sure you're ready to fight Phoenix?"

His reply was quick in coming, "Lena, don't be ridiculous. I'm with you all the way. You know I would take a bullet for you and I want these Phoenix guys destroyed as much as you do. You can count me in for the long haul."

I sighed, having known that his answer was going to be exactly that. "I know you would," I replied quietly, "I just don't want to drag you into a fight that doesn't involve you."

"Lena, they killed my grandparents. Of course it involves me," he said, a little annoyed, "You can't possibly think I could let that stand without a fight. Hell, it involves everyone! We were all attacked, not just you and me."

"Yea, I guess you're right. I'm sorry, I'm just still a little freaked out. I guess it's as much your fight as it is mine," I conceded. I felt bad having doubted him like that. "So what do you think we should do now," I asked him.

"We should try to find some supplies. We need to be able to go anywhere at any time. We never know what might happen. I guess we should try to scrounge up some weapons for me. And we need to find some food and a good place to stay hidden."

So we spent the next week scrounging food and supplies from neighbors' houses, hauntingly empty after Phoenix had come and bought their loyalties at the end of a gun. I was able to find a few extra sets of clothes, as was Aiden, since we didn't know the next time we'd get a shower.

Reminders of Phoenix were everywhere, with bullet holes piercing crumbling walls in every other house. The bodies of those that had refused to swear their lives over to the New World Order were littered throughout the neighborhoods we trekked through like warnings against anyone who denied Phoenix. It just made our resolve that much stronger that we needed to destroy them.

At night, we slept in the woods bordering my house, each taking turns at keeping watch. We had a few run-ins with Phoenix, and we both got used to gunfire and fighting for our lives. And death.

We were going through someone's backyard on our way to ransack a house one day when we suddenly heard voices coming from inside. Before we could take cover behind bushes, three Phoenix troopers stepped out the back door, and seeing us, immediately started firing their ghostly Spectres. Rolling to the side, I swung up my own M4 and dove behind a rock wall that was part of a small vegetable garden. I saw Aiden roll the other way and take cover behind a large tree with a fork in it.

When I heard the Phoenix men expel the last rounds in their clips, I pulled out my 9mm, and springing up, fired with both weapons at the three men. I saw Aiden attempt to do the same, but get pinned down by the man furthest away from me. I managed to get a lucky shot off and hit the man standing in the middle in the side where he was un-armored when he was turned towards Aiden. I continued to fire as I jumped over the low wall and sprinted towards the three men.

I holstered my pistol and let the Spectre hang loose as I drew my sabre-like short sword. Still fumbling with a new magazine, I caught the left-most Phoenix off balance with a slash across the throat. Ignoring the howls of pain from the man I had shot, I spun in the direction of the man pinning Aiden behind the tree. Unlike his partner though, the man was ready for me. As I swung at his head, he grinned and held his arm up to block the strike with his seemingly impenetrable armor. I guess he didn't realize that his armor was made for stopping bullets, not blades. My sabre cut through his wrist to the bone, but before I had the chance to finish the fight, Aiden came from behind the tree and shot the man from behind.

Before I even thought about it, I unholstered my 9mm and shot the man I had already hit once to relieve him of his misery. As I realized what I had done, I went numb. I hadn't been planning on keeping him as a prisoner, and the Truth that these men so believed in would have kept him from telling me anything of use anyway. I looked at Aiden in horror and looked for something in his eyes that might tell me I hadn't just killed a man so coldly.

He looked at me and said, "It's either them or us, Lena. You didn't do anything wrong. If anything, you were showing mercy by killing him. We couldn't have stopped his pain, and he wouldn't have accepted our help anyway. I don't like it either, but that's the only way we'll survive."

His words comforted me slightly, because what Aiden said made plenty of sense. That didn't mean I had to like it though, and I vowed to myself that I would never allow killing someone to become an easy thing. I wouldn't stoop to the level of Phoenix soldiers and kill just because I could. My compassion would have to be the rule of my actions when it came down to being merciful or vengeful.

It soon became a regular occurrence, finding Phoenix everywhere we went. Despite neither of us having used weapons before, we soon became adept with the tactics needed to stay alive in an ever more dangerous world. It wasn't just Phoenix that we encountered, either. Wanderers, with no food, no supplies, and little patience would try to attack us to steal supplies.

I understood the desperate situation these people were in, but we had little choice but to defend ourselves. We tried to evade these people as much as possible, because they were almost as bad as Phoenix. They had little regard for their lives, and showed us what the country had devolved into. It was pathetic and sad, and another reminder of why we had to destroy this New Order and help bring about a peaceful alternative.

I went to sleep every night with the faces of those I had killed burned into my skull and haunting my dreams, waiting for me behind wreaths of flame and halos of dark light.


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

After a few weeks of fighting and death, I decided that I needed to know what my parents had left me. It was time to read the letter that was in the envelope my mom had given me with her dying breath. I waited until Aiden was asleep one night to read it, not wanting to share what little I had left of my parents until I had exhausted my own interest in it.

As I pulled the crinkled envelope out of the back pocket of my jeans, I started to remember that night. I tried to push the visions away, but they kept coming on stronger, and soon I felt as if I was reliving it again. I watched my mom fall to the side, then my dad. I saw the flecks of blood from he wound fly onto the envelope I was now holding.

I looked down, noticing the brown smudges of dried blood on the paper. I fought back bile as I thought of how it was a piece of my mom that I still had left. I carefully opened the flap and took out the letter, written in the neat script of my mothers':

_ Lena,_

_If you are reading this, then you know that it is time that you knew the truth about your father and I. We should have told you a long time ago, but fear for you safety stopped us before we would say a thing to endanger you. You're father and I don't work for a bank. Credit Dauphine is a front for what is actually an internationally funded project that fights terrorism. It was based off of the model of the old Interpol system that existed decades ago. The branch that we worked for was a covert operation designed to infiltrate radical groups as spies to try to diffuse nascent terrorism before it began. However, this New World Order group is much worse than we first thought. Your father and I became false members of the NWO on orders from a General George Cipher who was in charge of our division. I know it's hard to believe, but your father and I didn't meet in a coffee shop while we were in college. We met on assignment while we were in Czecholav trying to diffuse another group of radical terrorists bent on uprooting the Consortium. The woman who led that movement, Irina Koslovic, is the one who started to recruit members for the NWO right under our noses. The Soviets at the time were grateful for our help in stopping her first grab at power, but it seems that the upheavals from the incident caused more of a stir than we thought. An extremely charismatic woman, she has been able to pull thousands of people into her web of lies, and has millions of extremely loyal followers. She claims to answer to the Truth, a belief that the human race is inherently flawed and must be cleansed by those who know best who deserves to live. Namely, the NWO. When we finally realized what was going on, the General decided to send your dad and I to infiltrate the group, since we had experience in dealing with Irina before. You have to understand that every time we went on a "bank trip" we wanted to tell you where we were really going. We didn't want to lie to you, but if the NWO had found out that we were lying about you, they would have realized we were lying about other things as well. The only way to keep you safe was to keep you blissfully unaware. We hope that you can forgive us for deceiving you. What you need to know is that Irina and her military (her generals named their forces Phoenix) will stop at nothing to take over the Consortium. In fact, we have reason to believe that they don't just plan on destroying the Consortium, but plan on taking over the rest of the world as well, once they've reduced it to sizable rubble first, of course. The scary part is that they have enough followers and backers to do it. Irina does have a weakness however. She has a close-knit group of advisors that she uses to spread her lies and deceit. She finds them completely loyal and obeisant. But there is a person in that inner circle who works for us, or at least seems to. We'd been getting information from this person for some time, but recently, the intel stopped coming. We aren't sure whether it's because the NWO is on the move, or because the person was discovered. Lena, we would ask you to try to escape if the NWO was able to take over, but we also know that you are too much like us to let a group like this stand and destroy our world. If you decide to fight them like we did, then we send you our love and luck. You're best chance at defeating Irina is if you can contact our agent on the inside. Help can sometimes be found in the unlikeliest of places. We love you, and know that you will make us proud._

_ Love forever and always,_

_ Mom & Dad _

I sat staring at the letter for a long time, before reading it over again three times. I couldn't believe what I was reading, and yet here it was, on paper. My parents had been living a secret life without me ever having so much as a suspicion otherwise. I figured that the bank just kept them really busy on international accounts, but now all of their trips to other countries made sense. Well, not sense, but at least let me connect some form of logic to their seemingly normal lives.

I was glad that they trusted me to take up their fight against Irina Koslovic. I knew that I would give the fight everything that they had given it, even if need be my life. It would make me proud to die as my parents had, giving everything into destroying something that was a blight upon the human race and the world. I now had important information that I could use against the NWO, but first I had to figure out what to do with it.

As I woke Aiden up for his watch, I pondered the many secrets my parents had kept from me, and how many more I would discover if I kept fighting Phoenix. I went to sleep happy for the first time in weeks. Aiden didn't say anything as he took up the last watch until dawn. It was going to be a long day tomorrow.

Eventually, I would have to describe the contents of the letter to Aiden, but for now, I kept them to myself. Aiden had begun to act distant. Despite his fierce loyalty, his mental health worried me. He had taken an M4 Spectre off the body of a Phoenix who lay beaten to death in the street. He took to cleaning it every chance he got, just as I did with my own arsenal. But his meticulous care was different. He cared for it as though he held his life in his hands. At the same time, his eyes were repulsed by it, disgusted and scared of the thing he held and what it could and did do on what was now a regular basis. I knew he struggled with the constant death just as I did, but he talked to me less and less with each passing day.

He very rarely looked me in the eyes anymore, and I decided that his odd behavior was an effect of the huge psychological strain we had been through. Maybe he just wasn't handling it as well as I was. I wanted to say something to him but I just couldn't think of anything to say. What could I say that would make right everything that was so very wrong about how we were surviving day to day? What could possibly make him feel better about the fact that we had killed, even if it was for a righteous cause?

After we had trekked around for about another two weeks, we started working out what we were going to do now that we had supplies. We planned during the day and hid at night. I still hadn't told Aiden about the letter. I woke up to take my turn at watch one night and found Aiden crying to himself. Instead of embarrassing him and letting him know that I had heard him crying, I waited until he subsided to get up and tell him it was my turn to watch. The rest of the night passed without incident, although I worried about Aiden the rest of the night. I knew I would have to talk to him, but I had to find the words first. The next day we went back to my house and started to plan what our next step was going to be in our war against the NWO and Phoenix.

Our breath rose and wreathed around our heads on the bitingly chilly fall day. Winter was coming soon, and we would have to find better places to camp at night. Staying out in the woods with the constant rain, in the ever-increasing cold was not going to last for very long. Even if we could have made a fire, it would have drawn unwanted attention from people best left alone. But we were going to die of frostbite or hypothermia long before we even had the chance to fight Phoenix.

We had scrounged enough supplies to last us for a month or two, and we had two backpacks that we would be able to use to carry everything we needed along with us. We had jury-rigged my backpack to hold my sabre as well as all the extra ammunition we had picked up during our scavenging trips and skirmishes. Another thing that we had scavenged was plenty of maps. We were about a hundred or so miles northwest of Washington, D.C. I assumed the New Order was planning on establishing their new government, whatever it happened to be, from the capital. No doubt Phoenix would set up their headquarters close by. We planned on making our way there, but we needed to know how to get there without following too many roads. They were sure to be patrolled by Phoenix, and we didn't want to tangle with them any more than we needed to.

We spent time over our dinner deciding which way we would go, cross-country or by roads, trying to decide the quickest and least-watched path to the capital. After debating about our route for a few hours, I realized we had decided all we could for that night. Despite the relative shelter of my kitchen – despite the charred and half-existent walls - we needed to go back to the woods to sleep. I knew that Phoenix would be watching my house. As I gathered the maps and my pack, Aiden hesitated by the door.

"We could stay in the house tonight," he said, "I'm tired of nights in the rain, and we'd have a bit more shelter in here," he finished, looking down at the ground, frustratingly refusing to meet my eyes.

I had serious reservations about staying in the house, despite our need for better shelter. One of which was the fact that the man who had killed my parents might come back. I was afraid to risk meeting him before I was ready. But Aiden's face looked so hopeful when he finally looked up at me, that I couldn't say no to him. I could tell he was on the brink, and if staying one night in the shelter of my former house would help keep him from the edge, then that's what we would have to do.

I took a look at our clothes, tattered and worn from so many nights out in the ceaseless rain. I didn't like it much, but I wanted to get out of the rain too. I figured that so long as we were ready to go at a moment's notice we'd be fine.

"What if Phoenix shows up?" I hesitated, despite having decided to stay. I didn't want him to feel like I was agreeing just to make him feel better.

"I'll take first watch, and if anyone shows up, we'll be ready to get out of here as fast as we can. Please, just one night out of the rain?" he asked pleadingly.

I heaved my bedroll out of my pack and walked into what was left of the living room as my answer. Despite having gotten his wish, Aiden seemed less than exuberant over my acquiescence. I didn't wonder much about it though, as my tired limbs anticipated sleep at last. All the trekking around and debating we had done that day finally started to catch up to me.

"Wake me up in three hours, Aiden," I yelled into the other room before I gave in to my fast-approaching exhaustion.

"Yea, don't worry, I will. Rest up, and don't worry, even a hint of trouble, and we're out of here," he answered, but I didn't hear a word, because I was already asleep within my own private dream world.

* * * * * *

I woke up suddenly and sensed someone else in the room. I heard something scuff on the floor behind me. I knew it couldn't be Aiden, because he would have called my name to wake me up. Wherever Aiden was, he wasn't the person sneaking around while I lay asleep.

I kept my breathing normal and tried to act like I was still asleep. I inched my left hand toward the knife at my waist slowly. I was lying on my belly, and didn't have much room to maneuver. Before my hand got to the knife, a heavy black boot shot out of nowhere and smashed my wrist into the floor. As I heard bone crack and cried out in pain, I rolled quickly the other way, away from the person who had just broken my wrist.

I quickly stood up and whipped my knife out with my good hand. My eyes weren't used to the dark though, and before I could react, there were hands grabbing my arms from behind, pinning them to my sides. My knife was torqued out of my hand, and someone kicked the backs of my knees, making me fall roughly to the ground. As I struggled to get back up, I felt hands forcing me to stay down. One of the two people holding me down put their knee to my back as they zip-tied my wrists together, painfully twisting the broken one.

The pain from my wrist together with the knee in my back made it hard to breath. I could barely gulp down a breath of air because of the agony shooting up my arm from my wrist being cruelly twisted in toward my back. That was when I heard a voice that made my blood run cold.

"I'm sorry, Lena, I didn't have a choice," Aiden said with utter sadness in his voice, "They took my grandparents, and told me I had to bring you to them. They said they would kill them otherwise!" He finished with pain in his voice.

"You're grandparents are probably already dead, Aiden," I spat out, then continued sadly, "I'm sorry Aiden, I wish you had told me. You really thought you could trust _them_?" I gasped as another spike of pain shot up my arm.

Aiden yelled, "You said you wouldn't hurt her!" But another voice came from the corner of the room in the shadows, "As a matter of fact Mr. Thrush, Lena here is quite right. We killed your grandparents just before you got back to the house to find them missing. They've been dead for weeks now. And now you're useless to us as well," the voice stated matter-of-factly as the shadow pulled out some kind of pistol from within his jacket.

Despite the dark, I could see Aiden's eyes go wide in surprise and disbelief just before the man who killed my parents shot Aiden in the stomach. At that moment, the two men who had grabbed my arms lifted me up bodily. As they wrenched my elbows up, the pain from my wrist was just too much. As I saw Aiden's limp body fall to the ground, I heard the man with the pistol say with anticipation, "It's good to see you again Lena. I can't wait to get to know you better." The room got even darker as I lost consciousness.

* * * * * *


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

When I woke up, I thought it was still nighttime and that I was back in my living room. However, I quickly realized that there was some type of black cloth over my eyes and that my hands were still tied behind me. I was sitting with my back against a wall, and the ground beneath me felt like cold concrete. My weapons were gone, the comfortable weight of the sheaths that normally rested at my waist missing. I tried to move my hands to see if I could get some circulation going. Too late I realized that doing that was a bad idea.

The broken wrist I had forgotten about grated against the zip-tie and searing pain shot up my arm. Before I could stop myself, I cried out in pain and tried to stop moving my arm. But the pain made my muscles clench and moved my wrist around even more within my bonds. I would be stuck with the pain until I could get untied. I didn't know how long I would be able to take it before I passed out again.

Suddenly, I heard a heavy door open up about five feet in front of me. Heavy boots thudded on the cold, unyielding floor as someone walked in and shut the door. I heard a heavy click as they locked it behind them.

"Who's there?" I asked, unable to mask my fear, as the blindfold was whipped off my head. Before me stood the man who had killed my parents, the man who had twisted Aiden to his sick plans, who had killed Aiden's grandparents.

"My name is Alexandre," he said in his annoyingly smooth Slavic accent, "and I'm here to help you understand the Truth."

"Go to Hell, you bastard," I said with more bravado and courage than I felt. He simply laughed at me like I was a child who needed to be chided.

"Oh, I'm afraid that won't be happening anytime soon," he said confidently, "And don't worry, if I do, you'll be coming with me," he finished with silky smooth menace creeping into his already quietly threatening voice.

I sat there on the ground looking up at him stonily, wondering what he wanted from me and starting to get angrier and angrier that Aiden was dead because of him. I was starting to forget about the pain in my wrist and arm and was getting ready to jump up and knock him over when he put his hand to his ear suddenly, and said, "I'm afraid I'll have to leave you for a time."

He reached down and pulled a knife out of a sheath at his calf, and started toward me. I tried to lean away from him, but he swiftly cut my bonds and stood back up.

"Try to get some rest," he said in a voice that suddenly turned cold, "You're going to need it tomorrow."

He spun on his black boots and walked out the door, firmly shutting and locking it behind him. As I looked around my new cell, I took in the accommodations. A cot rested in one corner of the room on a sparse metal framework. There were no windows save for one at the top of the door that Alexandre had just left through. There was also a toilet in the corner opposite the cot. There were no vents in the room, only bars set into the middle of the door that opened out into what seemed to be a hallway leading left and right away from my cell.

I gingerly took stock of my wrist as I brought my hands out from behind my back at last. My shoulder muscles ached from having been forced backward for such a long time. In fact, I realized that I didn't know how long it had been since my capture – I had stopped wearing my watch when the battery died from being out in the rain too long. I didn't know how long it had been since Alexandre had shot Aiden. As my eyes started to tear up, I stopped myself, and promised I wouldn't show any weakness in front of Phoenix. I realized that I was exhausted. I couldn't have gotten more than a few hours sleep before being so rudely awakened. Carefully holding my wrist against my body, I got up slowly and moved over to the cot.

I really didn't want to fall asleep here in this nightmare, but I needed to regain my energy. I had to suffer through whatever they had in store for me so that I could destroy them. I had to stay strong for Aiden, for my parents, for the memory of Aiden's grandparents. I had to stay strong for the people left alone to survive who had no one to be strong for them. I was going to bring Phoenix down, and I would stay strong until then. I had to. It was all I had left to live for.


	6. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

Lee Atton sat up in his bunk with a sigh of resignation as his watch beeped a steady rhythm that told him it was time to get up: 0600 hours. Swinging his feet to the side of his bed and standing up, he dropped to the floor in a push up position and started counting, "One. Two. Three…" He kept going until his bare back began to shine with a thin layer of perspiration. After repeating the process with sit ups, he stood up and walked to the side of his room where he had attached a chin-up bar to the wall. Once he finished his pull-ups, he grabbed a towel from his bedside and walked into the bathroom to take a shower. As he washed the thin film of sweat off his body from his light morning workout, he thought about how the raid the night before had gone. Five casualties, with one, a kid named Daniel, in critical condition from a bullet to the chest. They had barely escaped, scarcely getting back to the base with the wounded. It had been less than 6 hours earlier, and he saw the young faces of the resistance fighters whenever he closed his eyes. He tried to clear it from his mind as he shut the water off and walked back into his room.

As he started to get dressed, he thought about the past month. He hadn't been able to sleep well for weeks, and he was exhausted from the raids against Phoenix, catching six hours of sleep or less each night. Lee was the leader of the resistance against the New World Order. When his parents disappeared after the Phoenix attack, he was left to fend for himself. Since then, he had organized all the people who wanted to destroy Phoenix and the NWO and taught them how to fight for their lives, for their freedom.

The U.S. military had been completely obliterated or turned to the NWO, and there were very few trained soldiers left. Lee's dad had been a navy seal for his entire life before retiring to the relative peace and quiet of raising a family. After having been in the Wars, his father had taken no chances with his son's self-dependence. He had taught Lee how to survive and fight for his life since he was a kid. He was much more dangerous than most people of his 19 years were, whether in a firefight or in hand to hand combat. It was a skill set that came in very handy fighting against Phoenix, because they often made the mistake of underestimating him.

Despite his relative youth, Lee was a natural leader. The people he organized to fight Phoenix had known little about what fighting a war entailed, let alone the tactics they could use to catch Phoenix scouts off guard. In the past few weeks – almost a month since the attacks – he had assembled, trained and organized a resistance that was at least a thousand women and men strong, with the numbers growing more each day.

The people who joined the resistance were mostly survivalists, hikers, and campers who had been up in the mountains, or far away from human contact during the attack. Almost everyone who was near civilization when it happened had either been killed or had sworn loyalty to the NWO. Although some people switched sides and joined Phoenix, many people were able to escape. There were always people on the run from Phoenix, and the resistance helped them whenever and wherever they could.

Lee had been camping with a few friends at the time of the attacks. He immediately knew that someone had to stop the NWO when he witnessed a family massacred simply because they would not swear their loyalty to Phoenix troops. Phoenix had killed their children in hopes of getting their parents' cooperation. When that failed, they shot the parents as well. After that, Lee knew that someone had to do something to stop them, and he had the skills and the knowledge to do so. Raiding military stores became his first order of business. He led the resistance in scrounging weapons and munitions from former army bases and hideouts, and as he gained support from people he found or saved from Phoenix, the resistance's chain of command began to take shape.

A redheaded woman with bright, sparkling green eyes walked into his room as Lee was putting his belt on. "Morning kid. Sleep any?" she queried.

Chase Perry was Lee's second in command. She was 26, and a mysterious martial artist who had been up in the mountains when the bombs hit. No one really knew what she had been doing up there, though most assumed it was some kind of intense meditation exercise. She was quick to have Lee's back in a fight because he had saved her from Phoenix soldiers. She had come out of the mountains about a week after the attack when Phoenix tried to ambush her. As she was fighting them off, Lee and some resistance fighters happened to be passing by. She was on the losing end of the fight, but Lee jumped into the fray to push it in her favor. Since then, she was always a few feet away, ready to protect Lee from anyone and everything that sought to hurt him.

Evading the question, Lee asked, "How'd the raid go this morning?" Chase looked at him for a moment, noticing his jaw muscles tightening, making his cheeks look shallow and sunken in. She decided it wasn't worth pushing and said, "It went well. We picked up some grenades, a bunch of assault rifles, and plenty of ammo for the MP9s." As Lee pulled his tank top over his head she continued to give him her report. "We happened to go by some kind of blacksmith's store, or at least what used to be one. We picked up loads of knives and swords. They're bound to be effective against armor," she said, her eyes gleaming.

As a martial artist, she was very skilled at wielding a blade, and had also begun to teach Lee what she knew. Lee knew that the success of the raid that morning had definitely been worth the risk of journeying as far into Phoenix territory as he had ordered them to go.

With a slightly more somber look, Chase said, "But we also had two casualties. Tira and Jayden got hit by some shrapnel when some Phoenixes had us pinned down, but they should be back on active duty in about a week or so," she finished her report and stood waiting for Lee to respond.

"Sounds like it was a success," Lee said. "Nice work, C.P. You have breakfast yet?" he asked as he finished lacing his boots.

"Nope, just going down. Figured I'd drag your sorry butt out of bed first," she said with a smile. Finally getting over his gloomy morning mindset, Lee smirked and said, "Hey, I seem to remember having to kick your butt out of bed plenty of times."

Chase rolled her eyes and headed out the door, not waiting for him. "Hey! Wait up!" Lee called from behind as he hurried out the door.

As they walked down to what had become the mess hall, they talked about who they were going to put on different duties that day. Sentry duty, scouting duty, raids and missions all needed to be taken care of. Lee's tactical knowledge helped him choose who would be best for certain duties while Chase took charge of training the incoming members of the resistance. Lee had five main lieutenants who took orders from both Chase and himself. Three of them were in charge of leading and organizing raids while the remaining two took charge of keeping the resistance's barracks in working conditions, as well as keeping stock of munitions and supplies.

Most of the resistance fighters were outfitted with Ruger MP9s that Lee and the first few resistance fighters had found in a military installation fifty klicks north of their base of operations. They had been made way back in 1995 as compact weapons for law enforcement to use. Although Lee figured he had found the only stockpile of MP9s ever made, there were plenty to service the resistance. They also had all the ammunition they would ever need thanks to an overzealous military weapons stockpiler. Despite having enough MP9s for the whole resistance, each member had personal weapons they had picked up over the course of different fights.

Lee and Chase constantly sought to outfit everyone with at least one combat knife and whatever other weapons they could find. Phoenix corpses always got pilfered for ammo, knives, Spectres, and whatever else could be found. Lee was still trying to figure out what he could do about getting uniforms or at least similar clothing for his troops. It was always difficult to tell who was on your side in a firefight, and having civilian, non-matching clothes didn't help. More often than not, there were casualties due to mistaken identity.

As they sat and ate breakfast, Lee and Chase talked about what Phoenix had been up to most recently. "Chad came in just after I returned from the raid and gave me the scouting report. Apparently Phoenix is still building up their HQ about five klicks north of D.C. where NWO is setting up base-camp. They still have the same sentry patterns and strengths as they've had the past two weeks," Chase explained.

Chad was his reconnaissance expert, a former nature enthusiast and hunter from Pennsylvania who had barely escaped from Phoenix along with his brother Mark. They had been out on a hunting trip when they were ambushed. They managed to get away, and hadn't stopped running since. Chad was one of their best marksmen, and he was one of the most loyal of Lee's resistance fighters, not to mention a close friend of Lee's.

Chase continued with more interest, "He also mentioned that they saw a woman being dragged into the compound. Full armored guard and everything. He couldn't make out her face, but he said she looked to be maybe 18 or 19 and had dark brown hair. It must have been the same woman that Katya saw a few weeks ago back near Wildenton. Same description, and the same type of guard setup from Phoenix. She was unconscious when they brought her in, but they had at least four men on her," Chase finished.

"That's what's weird," Lee commented, "Phoenix doesn't usually care that much about one person. I wonder who she is," Lee mused, thoughtful.

"She must be someone important if they're going to that much trouble. They may have more people than we do, but they don't have endless amounts of raw recruits. Maybe it's worth looking into if it'll stir up some trouble for Phoenix," Chase suggested.

"After Chad gets some rest, tell him I want him to take another patrol back and find out all he can about this mystery woman. He may not be able to find anything out, but I want to know everything we possibly can. Tell him to look for any weak points in their sentry setups too," Lee ordered. "If we're going to help this woman escape, then we're going to need every advantage we can get."

"Will do, chief," Chase said. "Anything else before I go teach some people how to crack some Phoenix skulls?" Chase's emerald eyes sparkled with excitement as she got up.

"No," Lee laughed, "Go make sure it's our people cracking skulls and not the other way around."

******

Lee made his way to the infirmary on the other side of the base. Many of the resistance fighters ended up here, whether to be examined by their M.E. or to recover and heal from wounds they received in fights against Phoenix. For those people in the resistance who couldn't fight, or did not want to, they found other ways to help - being nurses, laborers, cooks, and most importantly, planning for the ultimate demise of Phoenix and the NWO were important jobs too. When the resistance destroyed the NWO, they needed to be ready to put a new government into place immediately so that they could protect themselves from anarchy reining in the streets. The non-combat resistance members took on all the responsibilities of keeping what was becoming an army warm and fed, and planning for the future after the NWO.

As Lee walked into the hospital ward where they treated the wounded, a woman walked up to him with a somber look on her face. Lee's lieutenant, Katya, did not look like she had good news for him. She normally had a serious and determined face that could bore a hole through a wall. Right now though, she looked worried and distracted, unusual for her normally charismatic attitude.

"How's he doing, Kat?" Lee asked tentatively, expecting to hear the worst. "Well, he's stabilized since you got him in here last night, but he's still in critical condition," she took a shaky breath before continuing.

"Doc got the bullet out, but he's had massive internal bleeding," her voice uncharacteristically cracking as she finished updating Lee. She looked to the ground and shifted her feet nervously, looking like a little kid about to be scolded.

"Kat, look at me," Lee said in a strong voice. She distractedly obeyed his order and turned to look him in the eyes. Lee grabbed her by the shoulders and looked her dead in the eye, not wavering for a moment. He noticed how tired she looked, and realized she probably hadn't slept or eaten since they had come in the night before, after the disastrous raid. She suddenly looked like the seventeen years old she was. The youth of the resistance had seemed to evaporate in the few weeks since the attack.

"He's a strong kid," Lee told her, "He's gonna get through this just fine. Now go get yourself some breakfast, and then catch some rack time. You look exhausted. I'll keep an eye on him for awhile."

She was so overcome with worry that she could barely reply. She finally croaked out, "Thanks, Lee. You're right," momentarily invigorated by his words as she turned away to go to the mess hall.

Lee watched her go, then turned down the left hallway of the ward and followed it to the fourth room at the end of the hallway. He turned right and stood staring at the closed door of the room. Taking a deep breath, he reached down and opened the door.

As he walked into the room, the first thing he noticed was the smell. It was the iron-laced, bitter smell of blood. He had forgotten how much blood he had had on him the night before when they had brought Daniel in. Like a flood, the images from the night before that he had tried to suppress earlier that morning came flashing through his consciousness. The blood, the screams, the pain.

He remembered holding on to Daniel, telling him to stay conscious, that it was going to be OK, that he was going to be fine. When he started to falter, Lee had wasted no time in carrying him the last klick and a half back to base. He had brought Daniel in, screaming in agony, the bullet in his chest searing his heart, each breath causing him more pain as Doc had worked at saving the kid's life.

Looking at Daniel's quietly rising chest was such a drastic contrast to his torment of the night before that Lee thought he was looking at a different person. The way his breaths came in and out, in and out. The only noise to break the silence of Daniel's breathing was the beeping of the many instruments attached to him. It sickened Lee to see this poor kid, almost his own age, but so innocent and young, lying in this hospital bed from a bullet wound. It pained him that he was putting these kids into fights that they weren't ready for, that they shouldn't be going into in the first place.

A middle-aged nurse came in to check on Daniel as Lee watched over him like a sentinel. Lee said nothing, and the nurse made no attempt to speak to him. Lee was so deep within his own thoughts that he barely noticed her checking the various readouts and dials on the machines attached to Daniel. As the nurse left the room, Lee stepped closer to the bed, putting his hand on Daniel's shoulder.

"I know you can't hear me, Daniel, but I'm gonna talk to you anyway," Lee started. "Katya loves you too much for you to let her down. She cares for you as much as we all know that you care for her. You have to fight this for her, and for you. I know you can. I know that you can beat it."

As his words rang out and hung in the air, he was suddenly self-conscious. Lee let go of Daniel's shoulder, jaw muscles tightening as he prayed for this boy, this kid who was too young to be lying in a hospital ward with a bullet wound in his chest. He prayed to whatever gods there were that this boy was strong enough to survive this affront to his youth. Strong enough to have the chance to grow out of his youth and become an adult, before the world killed him without a second thought.

He had come to know so many good people in such a short time after the attack, and Daniel was only one of them. Lee knew that he was going to see more friends die in the future. Knew it was inevitable. As he prayed for Daniel, he prayed a little for himself too. He wanted to stay strong. He needed to stay strong as the leader of the resistance. For the people who didn't have the strength, and for the people that had died. And for himself, who felt overwhelmed, but had to be strong for the people. _His_ people.


	7. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

When I woke up, I noticed two things immediately. First was that my wrist had a brace on it and didn't hurt so much anymore. Second was that Alexandre was leaning comfortably against the door in my cell, waiting for me to wake up.

I had slept surprisingly well, exhausted from the strain of events that had passed. I was glad for the rest, because whatever Alexandre had planned, I knew it couldn't be good. I remembered what I had decided the night before about staying strong. I sat up on the cot and tried to look unafraid.

Alexandre passed me a plate that had food on it. Unsure at first, I hesitated to take it, afraid that he might have poisoned it. As if he could read my mind he said, "Don't worry, I didn't poison it," he said with a knowing smile. "Eat up."

Although I didn't trust Alexandre, I was ravenous and needed the food to get my strength back. I dug in with gusto, not caring that it tasted like cardboard. All I cared about was that it was something to fill my stomach and keep it from grumbling painfully.

He disarmingly watched me eat as I shoveled the food into my mouth, finally finishing and setting the plate down on the cot. As I finished chewing and swallowing, I looked up at him, sure that I was ready to begin whatever was coming. I couldn't have been more wrong.

"I hope your wrist is feeling better," he said, "I wouldn't want you to have any distractions while we show you the Truth."

I didn't reply to his comment, only sat there quietly, waiting for him to make the first move. He looked out the bars in the door to my cell and made some kind of motion with his hand. The door clicked and opened as two black-clad Phoenix soldiers came into the room brandishing what looked like nightsticks. However, these rods were thicker at the bottom where they held them. The thicker part looked like it held a power source, and my guess was that these were some kind of stun batons or shock sticks.

I didn't particularly want to find out how powerful the electric shocks from those bad boys were. When Alexandre said, "Come with us," I followed without a word. We went into the hallway outside my cell and turned right, the two Phoenixes with stun batons trailing behind me. Alexandre walked in front, leading me to wherever it was that we were going.

I considered my position as we walked, as I followed Alexandre through a complex series of turns, twists and bends in the passageway. I tried to remember which way I went, but it was impossible to keep track. I realized that for now, at least, I was lucky to be in this compound, wherever it was, because winter would soon be coming in full strength, and it was giving me the shelter I needed. For that, at least, I was thankful.

Alexandre woke me from my thoughts when he stopped in front of a large black door. A shiny, glossy black veneer faced out into the hallway, looming and ominous in its contrast to the plain gray of the walls, floor, and ceiling. "Welcome to our Repository," he said, as he opened the door and gestured into a brightly lit room with seats arranged in a semicircle around a podium in the center of the room.

As I preceded him into the room, he asked me with a surprising amount of tenderness in his voice, if I would please sit down. I sat in one of the chairs surrounding the podium as the two guards took positions to either side of the now closed black door. Alexandre stepped up onto the dais that the podium rested on, and fiddled with a few controls.

As he pressed a series of buttons, the lights dimmed and a projection sprang onto the wall behind the podium. It was a picture of the White House, before the bombing had hit. It was so serene, so peaceful, that I thought for a moment that nothing had gone wrong, and that everything was the way it was supposed to be.

Then Alexandre showed me the next picture.


End file.
